Marvel Universe: Case Closure
by RetroWriter2012
Summary: Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Ciciley Livingston is on the search for her lost son and receives help from unlikely sources. Meanwhile, with the influence of the oncoming civil war between Iron Man and Captain America, she grows further apart from her daughters Elendriel and Yamila. It's only a matter of time before she loses she loves, as the impending Skrull invasion looms on.
1. Part One

**Part One**

A year passed since the Super Skrull invasion of Hell's Kitchen.

The world moved on, just as it had after the Chitauri invaded. The Super Skrull was no different; just another intergalactic monster to chalk up another victory for the Avengers – or, at least, the few that were able to fight that night. Captain America and Black Widow were busy with another matter involving the infiltration of HYDRA in S.H.I.E.L.D.

None of it mattered to Ciciley Livingston, _former_ agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

For those twelve months, she dedicated herself to searching for her son, Sean.

Last she saw of him was on Liberty Base, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top secret bunker miles and miles beneath Liberty Island. He blew up at her for keeping Yamila, the little sister he and Elendriel never knew they had, a secret for twenty-eight years. After then, she never saw him or her mother, Chrissy, again.

She swore to herself that she would not stop until she found the only lead to his disappearance: that strange Portuguese girl they encountered at Saccheri's warehouse. Somewhere in New York, she was around; but Ciciley would not put it past herself if she still remained in Hell's Kitchen. It was one reason why she stationed herself there.

Hell's Kitchen was the perfect spot to keep a low profile. No sane person would ever give up a luxurious life in favor of living in such a rundown, crime-ridden section of New York.

Ciciley's sanity vanished the moment she lost Sean.

Then again, she grew up in the Bronx, which was just as bad as Hell's Kitchen, if not worse. To her, it was going back to her old roots, hitting the streets and the gym every single day. And Hell's Kitchen _did_ have one of the sweetest gyms she ever trained in, "Fogwell's Gym." Her trainer, Anne, kept her from getting soft, if that was still a possibility, considering her "rejuvenation." She may have had the spirit and mentality of a sixty-something woman, but her body was forever twenty-something, thanks to the influence of an alien being known as "The Guardian."

The other day, after a rigorous spar session between her and Anne, she received a call through the gym's payphone. It was Maria Hill, another former S.H.I.E.L.D. operative who recently found employment with Tony Stark, in the aftermath of the HYDRA situation. Ciciley's presence was requested at the New Avengers Facility upstate. Her personal escort, a black SUV, waited outside Fogwell's.

The driver, a young Caucasian male with cropped blond hair and wearing a black suit and tie, offered to drop her off at her apartment to shower and put on "more comfortable" clothes. She made the bold choice of going directly to the facility in her sweat-drenched navy blue tank top and grey yoga pants. She knew the place where she was headed had no dress code – not for civilians.

Plus, she knew the person who arranged this visit could care less about her attire.

The drive was close to two hours, too much time for her young driver friend to tolerate the "gym funk" her body gave off in the once-fresh-scented SUV. She didn't have the heart to tell him how she cut one (on purpose) halfway through Queens. The poor guy did nothing to deserve it, but she knew these guys were trained to deal with anything; his experience gave him the intuition to roll _all_ the car windows down.

Once they arrived to the facility, Ciciley admitted it was an impressive complex up close. She spotted a group of trainees running exercises on a built-in course. One of them was a raven-haired, olive-skinned beauty with a super athletic build accentuated from the white sports bra (engraved with the Avengers' insignia) and black yoga shorts she wore.

"Yamila!" She called to the young woman.

The second her youngest daughter's focus shifted to her, she beamed with joy.

Leaving in the middle of her training exercise, Yamila rushed right up to Ciciley and warmly embraced her. "Mama," she cheered. "You came back! I've missed you so much!"

Ciciley mentally cursed the one responsible for this impromptu gathering. If it was his intention to melt her supposedly "cold" heart with this reunion, then he had another thing coming.

"Did you see me on TV? I was in Sokovia with the Avengers!" Yamila energetically noted.

Ciciley proudly nodded and smiled. "Yes, I did. You were awesome."

Yamila giggled. "They're training me to be a New Avenger. I'm going to work with Wanda, Rhodey, Sam, and Vision!"

Ciciley could feel the tears developing in her ducts; she held them back to the best of her ability. "I couldn't be more honored to be your mother than I am this moment, sweetheart. You always dreamt of being a superhero. Look at you now."

"You have _no_ idea how hard she's worked her butt off for this."

The sour-toned voice spoke out near them.

They turned and noticed Elendriel walking down the busy, polished corridor, accompanied by Mindy. As pleasant as it was to see her oldest daughter again, Ciciley was unable to ignore the woman with her.

With the exception of the Tony Stark-designed artificial forearm, a constant reminder of the night she fought in Hell's Kitchen, Mindy looked just about the same since the last time Ciciley saw her. She did, however, change her hair from brunette to blonde. Unfortunately, it did nothing to change how Ciciley felt towards her kind – the Guardians.

The feeling was mutual in the case of Elendriel, who seemed less than pleased to see her mother. That much was obvious when she didn't bother greeting her with a "Hello."

Instead, she acridly asked, "Any luck finding him?"

She knew the "him" she referred to and somberly answered, "No."

And that was as far as the conversation went between them before she departed, notifying to Mindy, "I'm gonna check up on Karter in the daycare center, if you need me."

Mindy acknowledged with a nod, watching Elendriel disappear through an automatic sliding door.

Ciciley felt her heart become very heavy. "She blames me for what happened."

"No, she doesn't," Mindy denied. "It's just the grief talking. It wasn't your fault."

"No, it's not." She directed the cold gaze of her icy blue eyes on Mindy. "It's _yours_. Yours and that _other_ skank of a 'reincarnation,' or whatever you want to call yourselves. Do me a favor and, as long as I'm here, _stay out of my way_!"

The severity of her voice made her point clear.

Mindy, stunned speechless by the aggressive address, made herself scarce.

"You didn't have to talk to her that way!" Yamila furiously yelled to her mother. "She's my friend, and she saved my life!"

"Yamila, listen to me, and listen _good_ – she is _not_ your friend. Being around her will only make bad things happen to you and your sister…just like they did with your brother."

A scowl formed in the face of her daughter. Never had she seen Yamila look at her with such resentment.

"Elle's right about you!" She unforgivingly bellowed, running away thereafter.

That bitter grimace would forever be engraved in Ciciley's memory.

 _She's too young to understand_ , she lamented in thought.

"That girl is definitely _your_ daughter with _that_ attitude."

Ciciley's fists clenched. She knew that unmistakable voice speaking from behind.

She spun with her right fist swinging, only for her forearm to be caught before it could connect with its target: Nick Fury.

"You dirty son of a—!"

"How did you know?"

Ciciley frowned. "What?"

"You wouldn't have come, unless you knew it was me. How did you know?"

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I figured it out when I saw that Helicarrier show up right next to Sokovia's floating city on TV…but the fancy escort _was_ a given."

"I'm sorry."

It was a genuine apology, not something he rehearsed when their paths crossed again. She shrugged, calming herself. "You've done much worse in the past. This was just Tuesday for us. Of course, there was HYDRA, so it's all good."

Fury smiled in satisfaction. "C'mon. I'll give you a tour."

Fury guided her through the complex, while the couple caught up on their adventures since the HYDRA incident. She impressed him with her recollection of the events leading into the Battle of Hell's Kitchen, but he was most delighted to know she went back to their old stomping grounds of Liberty Base. When it was his turn, she was enthralled over all that it took for him to keep under the radar from HYDRA, which included promoting Phil Coulson to S.H.I.E.L.D. director.

"If it weren't for Phil, we wouldn't have pulled off an extraction that saved hundreds of Sokovia citizens," Fury reminisced.

The reference prompted Ciciley to consider one bit of detail.

"So…whatever happened to Banner? You guys ever find out where he's been?"

Fury gravely shook his head. "It's a lost cause, searching for a man who doesn't want to be found."

"At least he can't change his face to something other than green."

He caught onto the hidden comparison she made. "You'll find him, Cici."

She sighed, grief-stricken. "I don't know, Nick. I saw the woman he changed into, or I _think_ was him. I haven't seen her again since."

"You know that we have everything you need here to find him." He hesitated for a brief moment but managed to bring himself to say, "Come back to the team."

She perceived this desperation from him.

If it really was his way of buttering her up, with the special tour and fancy escort, he did a decent job of it. Alas, she was still reserved on the matter.

"I…I can't, Nick. I've not been the same since a year ago. It seems like more and more each year, I lose that woman I once was before I came back to Project Geo. I don't recognize myself in the mirror anymore."

Fury brandished a devilish grin. The one true opportunity in getting her back to the team was on the table, and he did not hesitate in taking it.

"Well, we _do_ have a therapist on staff here. She's helped the team cope with their new lives. She's quite the miracle worker, even managed to get Stark back on track after his bout with PTSD."

Ciciley scoffed. "Nick, with all due respect, a shrink is the very _last_ thing I need right now."

"Give her a chance." Fury insisted. "She's helped Elle and Yamila, too, just to let you know."

"Oh, in that case, I would _love_ to meet the woman who made my own two daughters turn against me."

Even though it was a request spiked with deep mockery, Fury nonetheless made the call for a "Doctor Marie Nylen" to come to their section of the facility. Within a few short minutes, they heard a pair of heels click-clacking rapidly down the hallway, reverberating closer to them.

It drew Ciciley's attention to their owner – a blond, long-haired young woman in a white blouse, black dress pants, and glasses.

Then she saw the face…and lost all feeling in her body.

This "Doctor Marie Nylen" of Fury's was _Genevieve_.

Dr. Nylen saw the panic in her face as she approached and immediately reassured her, "Miss Livingston, I know what you think, but it's not—"

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

Nick jumped at the sudden roar of her voice.

"Is this your idea of a joke?!" She screamed to him. "Did Elendriel and Yamila put you up to this?! Was this some sick way of getting to reconsider?!"

"Cici, calm down." Fury said. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just—"

"I know about Genevieve, Miss Livingston." Nylen clarified. "Elendriel had the same reaction when _she_ first saw me, and she shared all the details with me."

 _She even_ _sounds_ _like her_ , Ciciley processed in her increasing anxiety.

"She said it has helped her come to grips with what happened to Sean, so I've—"

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ SAY MY SON'S NAME AGAIN! _EVER_!"

Nylen remained silent, not wishing to infuriate the former agent any further.

"I swore if I ever saw you again, I'd _kill_ you! Don't think I've forgotten _that_!"

The cold-blooded warning chilled Nylen to the bone.

Fury made another attempt to figure out why Ciciley reacted this way but was blown off the minute she turned and left in her rage.

"What just happened?" Fury inquired to Nylen.

The young therapist moaned. "Where do I begin…?"


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

A taxicab back to Hell's Kitchen was not as cushy as a fancy S.H.I.E.L.D. escort, but it kept Ciciley from being constantly reminded of what Nick Fury pulled back at the facility.

Regrettably, it was still on her mind all the way into Fogwell's Gym.

For that, she needed another round of training with Anne to blow off steam.

She saw the Scotswoman conversing with a tan-skinned woman of forty-something years of age with eyes as piercingly blue as hers. In a low-cut black tank top and form-fitting, tie-dyed leggings, she would have seemed imposing to anyone but Ciciley.

Her cold blue eyes locked with Ciciley's on her way in, nodding in her general direction for Anne to see.

Bringing their exchange to a conclusion, Anne left the woman's side and approached Ciciley, confusion drawn on her face. "What're you doing back so soon?" she asked. "Your session ended earlier this afternoon."

Ciciley dodged her question with one of her own. "Who's the new girl you were talking to?"

"Her name's Rose and she's a new client," Anne divulged. "We _were_ about to begin her training, until you showed up for whatever reason that you _still_ haven't told me about."

"I just need to hit something right now."

Anne could see the evident anger and frustration in the young woman's demeanor. Undoubtedly, she was having a pretty rough day.

"Well, if you _really_ want to hit something, the ring's where to do it," Anne offered. "But you'll have to pay extra."

Ciciley scowled. "I don't care."

Anne obliged to her client's demand and led her to the sparring ring.

The two women were about to step in, until one young Hispanic woman jumped right in over the ropes, dancing vigorously around the ring in her purple tank top and black yoga shorts. She sparred with the thin air, her taped-up fists jabbing left and right in swift, rapid motion.

"HEY!" Ciciley roared to her. "We already had dibs!"

The young Hispanic woman hardly acknowledged her presence. "Ya snooze, ya lose, grandma. Should be faster in your old age."

Ciciley scoffed. "I look ten years older than you, girl. I could kick your butt twice as much at that."

The woman ceased her warmup, focusing directly on her challenger.

"Bring it on then, _old woman_ ," she returned.

"Ciciley, don't do this," Anne advised. "This is Marisa. I've seen her around here the past year, and she does _not_ fool around. Just yesterday, she benched two-thirty-five and squatted three-fifty. And don't get me started on the way she does pullups."

"The only pullups she'll need are 'Adult Size,' after I've put her in a coma." Ciciley refuted. "Now, I'll pay you _triple_ what I owe, if you shut up and fetch me some gloves and a head guard."

Anne let out a discouraged sigh. "Your funeral."

* * *

A short moment later, Ciciley and her opponent – Marisa – were fitted with headgear, gloves, and mouth guards.

The bell rang, and the kickboxing match began.

Both women danced circles for a while, and then Ciciley made the first move.

She opened with a fierce roundhouse kick aimed for Marisa's head.

Marisa was quick to avoid it, ducking in time to let Ciciley's foot fly an inch over her head, whipping at a few locks of her jet black hair.

Following her opponent's failed attempt at an early knockout, she advanced with some left and right kicks at Ciciley's sides.

Ciciley wisely blocked them, protecting her ribs, which were Marisa's target.

She succeeded in catching Marisa's right leg, forcing her to hobble on the other.

Before she could allow her to counter with a dropkick, Ciciley clocked her with a solid left jab to the face.

Marisa reeled back, blood seeping from her nose.

Albeit dazed for a brief time, she glared to her opponent and laughed.

Then she made a move that took everyone – especially Ciciley – by surprise: she removed her headgear, mouth guard, and gloves.

"Either you're giving up or crazier than I thought," Ciciley mockingly presumed.

"Oh, no, no," Marisa boldly negated. "I'm just confident that those love taps are the only blows you'll get on me."

There was smugness in her conduct that irritated Ciciley to no end.

Yet it reminded her much of someone she knew…someone very close to her.

Nevertheless, she had to wipe that arrogance off the young woman's face – show her who the _real_ queen of this gym was.

She flew in with another left hook that Marisa dodged while bringing up her left knee, striking Ciciley's stomach.

The wind knocked completely out of her, she stooped over and was subdued long enough for Marisa to execute the same roundhouse kick Ciciley herself attempted earlier; only this time, it connected.

Her head rattling inside her helmet and her body going limp, Ciciley collapsed to the mat, ending the match by a total knockout.

Marisa coolly exited the ring, thoughtlessly stepping over her downed, defeated challenger. Passing Anne on her way out, she whispered, "Be sure to tell her that I turned _forty_ last April the fourth."

Anne's ears perked, a smile forming on her face.

Shortly after Marisa's departure, Rose moved in beside Anne and asked, nodding to Ciciley, "She ready _now_?"

"Absolutely," Anne answered with immense satisfaction.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

 _Wake up, Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!_

"DADDY!"

Ciciley did not consciously realize that she screamed herself awake until after the fact. What was even more disconcerting to her was that she had no idea how she woke back in her rundown apartment across town. The last place she could recall being was Fogwell's Gym, engaged in a match with that big-mouthed Hispanic woman.

"Must've been one serious nightmare."

Her body jolted at the voice speaking out across her bedroom, which lacked any décor – save for a spotlight lamp illuminating from the floor on the other side of the mattress situated at the corner where she had been lying.

But it was the individual standing near the bedroom door that drew her attention.

Certainly enough, it was Anne, leaning against the rotted wall in a black leather S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform that bore heavy cleavage. It was worn beneath a long, black leather coat that would have made the raven-haired "fitness trainer" a dead ringer for Selene from _Underworld_.

"What're you doing in my apartment?" Ciciley questioned. "And why're you dressed like an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Because I _am_ one, Cici."

She stomped a passing cockroach underneath the stiletto of her right heeled boot.

"Quite a dump you're keeping yourself in," she observed. "I've been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, but I only know about your 'perfect' little abode here because of the ledger you signed at Fogwell's."

Heatedly, Ciciley shot up from the mattress and pinned Anne against the wall, her right forearm pressed firmly against the woman's throat.

"Did Fury have you tailin' me this whole time?!" She demanded to know.

Anne fought to breathe more less provide the young woman with an answer.

"No," she rasped. "I'm…acting on…my _own_ accord. Fury doesn't know what's _really_ happening here… what started the night you lost your son."

The pressure from Ciciley's forearm intensified against Anne's throat.

"I _didn't_ lose him!"

"And I wholly agree," Anne hoarsely acknowledged. "It's the whole reason…I went rogue…to find the Splitters."

Ciciley grimaced over the term.

Releasing her hold on Anne, she inquired, "What are Splitters?"

Anne briefly coughed, regaining a steady breath. "The compatibility in alien DNA John Saccheri discovered between your son and your mother led him into harnessing it into a fusion process that would evolve them into one supreme being – something that he would use as a weapon against his enemies. But it backfired on him, splitting them into eight different people – we call them 'Splitters.' We've managed to track down one here in Hell's Kitchen: Marisa."

"The muscled twin sister of Rosario Dawson that kicked my booty in the ring?" Ciciley uttered.

Anne nodded. "That'd be the one. I only knew her to be a Splitter when she told me her birth date – April 4th." She detected the look of revelation on Ciciley's face. "That's your son's birth date, isn't it?"

"Y-Yeah," confirmed Ciciley, after a short pause. "I…I only thought there was one…the Portuguese girl that night at the warehouse. But there _can't_ be more. The same birthday as my son? That's just coincidence."

"I would've had the same thought," Anne said, "until I found another before Marisa who said _her_ birthday was April 4th as well. And that's when the pieces started coming together from that one little detail. The Splitters all share the same birthday at the _exact_ time of birth – 12:50pm."

Ciciley's body numbed. The shock of this new information overwhelming her.

"I have her with me now, if you'd like to meet her," Anne proposed.

"S-Sure."

Following Ciciley's validation, Anne led her into the living room.

Unfortunately, the room was empty.

The television set was left on a newscast of a reported theft earlier in the day at the New Avengers Facility. But Anne and Ciciley's focus was more centered on the opened front door.

"Tell me she didn't," Anne whispered in suspicion.

Loud, argumentative voices blared from the apartment across the hall.

"That's Mister Williams." Ciciley identified one of the shouters. "That's a dude _not_ to be messed with."

Anne tensed. "And I think my _friend_ is doing just that right now."

Suddenly, the door to Williams' apartment busted from the inside, under the weight of a heavyset, bald, middle-aged African American man. It appeared to Ciciley and Anne that he had been thrown against it.

Shortly thereafter, they were surprised to see a woman in a gray hoodie and white cut-off shorts emerging from the apartment. Ciciley recognized her as the same woman she spotted back at Fogwell's, the one Anne knew as "Rose." The intensity in her steely blue eyes was still there, presumably more so after her confrontation with Williams.

Of course, the most striking sight was Williams' six-year-old child, whose hand Rose held while leading him out.

"I'm keeping him," she declared.

* * *

Marisa loved Fogwell's most at closing time.

No one around to bother her, hog all the equipment, or even pick a fight like the feisty African-Sicilian woman she schooled in the ring.

There was one that stuck by as she finished the evening with a round of pullups – the chiseled model of perfection named Harley. He was the one human being she had no qualms with, normally closing out with her. That night, however, he seemed to be on his way sooner than usual.

"See ya tomorrow, Marisa," he said.

"Check ya later, bro."

Looking in her direction, he shook his head and admired the fanciness of her pullup routine, a testament to her strength. It was unlike any he had seen in his days of training at Fogwell's. His favorite was what she termed "The Invisible Ladder, in which she took midair steps while pulling herself up to the bar.

"I'll never know how you do those the way you do," he commented.

"Stick around and I'll _show_ you," she snickered.

Harley chuckled, continuing on his departure.

No longer with an audience, Marisa released her hold from the bar and dropped feet-first back to the floor.

The indoor lights switched off, much to her annoyance.

Only the outside streetlight irradiating through the tinted windows provided enough for her to pack up.

Once all of her gear was gathered, she turned to leave.

Her heart skipped a beat, bumping directly into a woman that loomed over her, without as much as a murmur.

"Jeez, girl!" Marisa exclaimed. "Gave me a heart attack!"

She noticed the young woman to be of Portuguese descent, with a robust physique heightened by her white tank top, gray sports bra, and black yoga shorts. Her dark, blank eyes stared unswervingly into Marisa's, unsettling her.

"Can I help you with something?" Marisa submissively asked. "You do realize this place is closed now, right?"

The Portuguese woman said nothing, still giving an empty gaze.

"O…kay," said Marisa, whose discomfort began to increase. "Well, knock yourself out with…whatever. I'll just—"

"Our leader wishes to have you for the colony."

Marisa glared. The one thing this girl had to say and it made no sense.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

The dynamic of the New Avengers Facility felt vastly different in the evening hours. Elendriel Livingston was the only active resident at the time, strolling through the halls while heavily attentive to the glass tablet she held. Projected onto the tablet was a live holographic feed from the Quinjet occupied by Captain America and his new team of Avengers, en route to Lagos, Nigeria. Sitting alongside Scarlet Witch and Falcon was Yamila, who looked reasonably tense for her first field assignment.

"You'll knock 'em dead, lil' sis," she murmured.

"Hope so."

Elendriel nearly dropped her tablet from the voice that impulsively spoke out from the shadows. "Jeez, Myst! I'm gonna have to start puttin' bells on you!"

A short, slender thirtysomething brunette in a black turtleneck sweater, jeans, and boots made her presence known beneath the dim fluorescent lighting. She smiled coyly at Elendriel, her hands deep inside her back pockets.

"My bad," she said. "Sometimes I forget how quiet this place can be during the after-hours." She gestured to Elendriel's glass tablet. "So I hear your little sister's off on her first mission?"

"Yep. She deployed with Cap and the others just an hour ago."

"Really could've used her for another assignment I have."

Elendriel frowned. "What other assignment?"

"Oh, you know the one," Myst said, taking Elendriel's tablet from her grip and changing the display to a screen-captured image from the security camera of a convenience store. "Our target. She's been spotted in Hell's Kitchen."

Elendriel glanced over the image, recognizing the woman in it as the Portuguese one her mother spent the last months searching after. If she had known Elendriel herself committed to the same case, she would never hear the end of it.

"This is the chick, right?" Myst queried.

Elendriel confirmed with a nod. "Let's gather the team."

Together, the two women made their next stop to the facility's fitness center, which was occupied by a pair of towering, omnipotent women of god-like strength and physique. One had long, flowing auburn hair; the other had short black hair cut in a bob style. Between their tanned complexions and similarity in age, which one could presume to be somewhere in the early-forties, they might as well be sisters.

"Ava! Tara!" Myst called.

A two-thousand-pound barbell thundered to the matted floor, dropped by the flame-haired Ava, once she heard her name. Side-by-side with Tara, she approached Myst and Elendriel, dwarfing them.

"Have I told you ladies how thankful I am to have you on the team?" Myst gleamed, her arms folded as she admired the amazons.

"Not often enough," grumbled Tara.

"Well, I'm certainly gonna start," Myst assured, "right after your first-ever field assignment in Hell's Kitchen. Time for you girls to prep."

"We finally get to kick some butt?" Ava asked, her knuckles popping.

Myst smirked. "Only if it comes to it, which I'm certain it will, once you see what we're up against."

Elendriel noted Myst's energized demeanor.

 _Girl seriously needs to dial it back a bit._

Leaving the dampness of the fitness center, their next stop was the more tranquil quarters of Oneida Kastanidis. The second they entered, it was a clear contrast to the atmosphere they left from Ava and Tara. Scented candles, black lighting, and easy listening music established a psychedelic ambiance that Myst found instant discomfort in.

At the center of it was a radiant blonde sitting lotus style in a silk purple robe and black leggings.

"You have come to assign my first mission."

Oneida's accuracy in deduction was a courtesy of her special ability: reading the thoughts and emotions of others.

It was a particular ability Myst did not respect to be much helpful in _any_ scenario.

"Ava and Tara will be joining us," she notified.

Oneida scoffed disapprovingly. "Tara is aching for a fight, but I'm hoping for a more peaceful resolution to this matter."

"Our target isn't one for peace treaties, Kastanidis!" Myst snapped. "If you want to survive your first assignment, you'd better use whatever power you've got in those measly fists of yours, instead of just your mind! Understood?"

"Yes, _ma'am_ ," Oneida sulked.

Myst did not give her a second glance as she withdrew from the room.

Elendriel, however, locked eyes with Oneida for one brief moment. She could sense whatever reading she ran telepathically, until she was able to sever the connection. The suspecting gaze Oneida gave her afterward drew more than enough concern out of Elendriel. What could she have discovered?

Following this unusual occurrence, Elendriel caught up with Myst.

"What about our last member?" She inquired. "We still haven't given her the proper training she needs."

"In due time," Myst answered. "She's not ready yet."

Elendriel shrugged. "Well, sooner or later, she'll have to be."

* * *

"There's no way on earth you would've been allowed to keep that poor child, Rose. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And we've done the right thing bringing him _and_ his father to the police."

"Yeah, yeah."

Hell's Kitchen's 15th precinct was one of the busiest spots in the city, and rightfully so, with the wave of crime that commonly flowed; and the case Anne, Rose, and Ciciley brought with them was no exception.

The three women kept six-year-old Jimmie "Junior" Williams company at the station, ever since his father was booked for child abuse. He did not go in quietly, ranting and raving about Rose, who he referred as "one of the freaks destroyin' this town." Thankfully, the officers did not heed the words of a junkie.

"You ladies did quite a civic duty tonight," said Detective Brett Mahoney. "Williams has quite the criminal record on him: aggravated assault, money laundering, drug smuggling…the list goes on and on."

"And now we can add 'child abuse' to it." Ciciley stated.

"Will Junior be safe here?" Rose asked, her eyes not once leaving the sight of Junior sitting on a nearby bench.

"He's in the safest place in Hell's Kitchen." Mahoney guaranteed. "Besides, some hotshot lawyer up from Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz is coming to pick him up. She's his emergency contact."

Ciciley snickered. "A lawyer?"

"She's been working a special case Williams is involved with." Mahoney divulged. "Unfortunately, his son's involved in it, too, and Walters turned mother hen to a kid with no other next of kin."

"Junior!"

The voice of a young woman cried out from the assortment of busybodies in the station. A twenty-something Caucasian female rushed past a few officers to reach Junior Williams. By process of elimination, they figured this to be the lawyer Mahoney mentioned.

"You're Jennifer Walters?" Mahoney questioned.

" _Jen_ Walters, yes," she clarified, turning halfway from her crouched position near Junior to address the detective.

Walters appeared nothing close to a lawyer in the eyes of Ciciley. At the time she arrived at the precinct, she wore a black hoodie, purple yoga shorts, and white tennis shoes. Her long brown hair was tied into a ponytail. Clearly, she either just finished or was in the middle of a workout when she was called to the station.

"Who should I thank for saving Junior's life?" She asked Mahoney.

The detective gestured to Ciciley, Anne, and Rose. "These ladies right here."

Walters looked to the women, smiling. "Thank you. I…I can't believe his father would attack him again, after all he's put him through this week."

"What kind of business is his daddy in?" Ciciley prodded.

"I can't say," Walters denied. "It's still a pending case. All I can say is thank you for protecting this lil' guy. He means the world to me."

She gently took Junior by the hand and led him out.

Mahoney shook his head, grinning. "That woman is a rare breed in this city."

A chime sounded from Anne, prompting her to reach into the left pocket of her leather trench coat and retrieve her phone.

"Hello," she answered, listening to the masculine voice on the other end. "Alright, we'll be right there. Try your best to contain her."

As she hung up the phone, Ciciley asked her, "Who was it?"

"Another Splitter I've recruited," said Anne. "He said that Marisa has been discovered by one other at Fogwell's." She then solemnly added, "Cici…it's her."

Ciciley's body tensed. She knew exactly to whom Anne was referring.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

"Our leader wishes to have you for the colony."

It was all Marisa's assailant was capable of saying while thrashing her about Fogwell's. Even if she was allowed time to figure it out, it did not seem to fit with the Portuguese woman's M.O.

The force that she threw her in was as terrifying as it was incredible.

Marisa's body struck various pieces of equipment, from the weight rack to the weight training bench.

Multiple contusions developed on her arms, legs, and back.

"Our leader wishes to have you for the colony," her attacker echoed.

"Yeah, well, that ain't happenin' when you're too busy kickin' the crap outta me," said a battered Marisa, her body lying contortedly on a pile of dumbbells.

She braced herself for another toss towards another part of the gym as the crazed woman advanced.

"ENOUGH!"

Marisa recognized the voice that practically saved what was left of her life.

With an eye that was _not_ as swollen as the other, she could see her savior – Harley – standing near the doorway.

"Please try to remember who you are," he told the woman.

His plea fell on deaf ears.

Moving at breathtaking speed, the woman retrieved one of the barbells scattered to the floor. She swung it like a club towards Harley.

He took one blow to the face. His head swiveled to the right, blood and shattered teeth spewing from his mouth.

As much as Marisa appreciated his valiant effort in heroism, it seemed fruitless against the ninja-like aptitudes in combat this insane woman possessed. Admittedly, she was impressed that he was still on his feet.

It might have been the concussion she suffered from all the thrashing, but she could have sworn she saw a new set of teeth grow out from Harley's bloodied mouth. In a matter of seconds, he went from a guy who had fewer teeth than a hockey player to having a million-dollar smile again.

The woman took another swing with the barbell.

Harley caught it this time, successfully ripping it out of her grip and throwing it out of her reach.

"Stop it!" He demanded. "You're one of us!"

Still, the woman was in no listening mood.

She tackled the bigger, more physically imposing man into the nearest wall.

The woman looked stronger than she was, managing to send herself and Harley right _through_ the wall in a hail of brick and mortar.

Pinned down on a pile of rubble, a dazed Harley could only allow himself to be subjected to a series of vicious lefts and rights from his savage opponent. He felt his face grow numb by the second. Each punch was like a rock to the head. He was certain it was even bloodier than before, his blurred vision turning crimson and his breathing becoming raspier.

Marisa could no longer stand to see such brutality.

Gathering as much strength as she could, she pulled herself back to her feet and rushed at the wild woman.

She threw herself on her back, locking her left arm tightly around her neck for a chokehold maneuver.

"Leave him alone!" She screamed.

Unfortunately, the submission hold was not enough.

A head-butt to the face forced her to release the woman.

Again, with her flawless reflexes, she twirled around Marisa, taking her left arm and executing her own submission hold with a perfect arm lock.

Marisa winced more over the painful method in which her arm was wedged against her back than her broken, bleeding nose.

"Our leader wishes to have you for the colony."

Marisa tired of this broken record. "Tell him to go jump off a cliff."

Between aggravation and annoyance, Marisa made the desperate move of leaping back against the woman and rolling out of her hold.

Her strategy went as a planned, but a little _too_ effectively…if not unbelievably.

Marisa and her adversary flew several feet straight into the air, landing onto the rooftop of Fogwell's. She tumbled out of the arm lock, just as she intended, yet she barely grasped the superhuman feat she performed.

"What the…?!"

It was neither the time nor place to reflect on it, as the relentless woman was back up again and lunging at her.

At this juncture, Marisa knew kickboxing was her only best defense.

A swift right kick to the face sent the woman off-course, collapsing across the rooftop structure.

She was right back up and well-recovered in less than a second.

Marisa tirelessly executed her other moves, including the devastating roundhouse kick she learned from the _other_ woman she sparred with earlier that day.

Nothing could stop her.

Before she knew it, she was at the mercy of a brutal grip to her throat, lifted off her feet and over the rooftop edge.

She could barely get a breath in.

"Our leader wishes to have you for the colony."

 _Again with this_ , Marisa thought in exasperation.

Despite how little she cared of it, a part of her did wonder who this "leader" was and what type of "colony" he wanted her for. It could have been a code for her execution, and this young Portuguese woman was just a pawn in some brainwashing plot.

Whatever the case, she did nothing to deserve this punishment.

In her moment of peril, she heard a faint whooshing noise, as if someone fired a pea shooter.

Some type of dart protruded from the neck of her would-be murderer.

From the manner in which she rapidly blinked while yanking the dart out of her skin, Marisa had to guess it to be one that tranquilizes its intended target.

The woman reeled back, moving Marisa away from the edge.

She landed atop of her, as soon as she slumped to the roof.

Marisa removed the massive grip to her throat, fighting to return air to her lungs.

"You lasted a lot longer than the last person she took her anger out on," said a voice she recognized from recently.

Turning her head, she spotted two familiar women.

"Anne? And the old woman whose butt I kicked?"

"The name's Ciciley," the angry former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent clarified.

Marisa gestured to her now-unconscious attacker. "Is Lee a friend of yours?"

Ciciley frowned at the name Marisa seemingly made up on the spot. "Lee?"

"She kept mentioning something about a leader, so I figured I'd call her 'Lee,'" Marisa explained. "Why? What's her _real_ name?"

"She doesn't have one." Anne said. "All that we know is she's part of a major puzzle that you yourself are also a piece in."

Marisa pointed to herself, immensely confused. "Me?!"

Approaching footsteps and loud groaning directed their attention to the rooftop access door, which Harley stumbled out from with a tanned, middle-aged woman Marisa knew as "Rose."

Looking at Harley's face, she was astounded to see it healed entirely, with only his white t-shirt displaying remnants of his bloody encounter with Lee.

"Har, you okay, man?" She asked.

"When the ringin' in my head stops, I'll let you know," he groaned.

"How's it that you look so pristine after nearly getting pounded to a pulp?" Marisa questioned. "And how did I fly four stories straight from the ground to the roof we're standing on now?"

"You're what we call Splitters, Marisa," Anne began. "Eight different people, each with a unique talent, divided from a crude experiment conducted during the invasion of the Super-Skrull a year ago. You, Harley, Rose, and the woman you call 'Lee' are all in reality one individual – a former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. named Sean Livingston."

"My son," Ciciley grimly added.

Marisa laughed at first but then stopped when she noticed the seriousness in the faces of those around her.

"That's…impossible," she noted, centering her attention to Rose. "I mean, are _you_ buying any of this?"

"That I'm one piece of a whole young black kid?" Rose shrugged. "It's a dream come true for me."

"So far, we've managed to track four of you," Anne continued. "But, thanks to tonight's efforts, we now have _five_."

Marisa frowned. "Five? But I count only fo—"

A blinding spotlight flashed on spontaneously above them.

They realized it to have come from a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet that stealthily flew in over the area, without so much as a peep.

Adding to this, they were surrounded by five individuals dressed in matching navy blue jumpsuits, each with an insignia resembling that of a DNA helix stitched onto the upper right sleeves.

Ciciley was disheartened to see one of them to be Elendriel.

"Stand down," her daughter commanded, "by order of the Helix."


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

Confined to the backseat of a S.H.I.E.L.D. standard SUV with Anne, Ciciley made an attempt in getting a fix on the young special agent codenamed "Myst." She comfortably rode shotgun, nodding her head to the tune of U2's "Mysterious Ways" while Elendriel tailed the black van that contained Marisa, Lee, Harley, and Rose. The other three members of Myst's wannabe Avengers troupe, "Helix," guarded the four Splitters.

"So…Myst, is it?" Ciciley finally addressed, after close to twenty minutes of awkward silence. "Did you play a Milton Bradley game one day and just said, 'Hey, that rolls off the tongue'?"

Myst sneered. "Your jokes are as ancient as you are."

"Yet I still got my sparkling good looks," Ciciley countered.

"Oh, I heard about that incident at Project Geo from a few years back," Myst said. "How you punched the ever-living-stuffing out of some alien and got its blood mixed with your DNA, and you shed thirty years off a flabby butt."

"Don't forget the hernia and low blood sugar." Ciciley jested.

"You know you're just as big as a freak as the rest of 'em?" Myst viciously retorted.

All the air in the SUV sucked out. The tension had risen to a new high.

"Do elaborate." Ciciley challenged with her ice-cold tone.

Myst turned in her seat, locking eyes with her prey.

"You know Fury made _me_ your replacement in S.H.I.E.L.D.? Recruited me himself. He hasn't talked much about you lately – not since that little freak-out you had over Dr. Nylen. Why _did_ you freak out? Something about her looking like some sorceress from another dimension?"

"Myst," hissed an agitated Elendriel. "Stop."

"Yes, _please_ stop." Ciciley rebuked her so-called "replacement."

Myst hushed, grinning victoriously.

She faced forward, tuning the radio up to a news report.

"A mission in Lagos, Nigeria ended in devastation for the Avengers, when Brock Rumlow – a former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. revealed to be in association with the HYDRA terrorist organization – was strapped with a bomb. Wanda Maximoff, an enhanced member of the Avengers, defused both Rumlow _and_ the bomb via containment from her enhanced abilities. Unfortunately, the effort resulted in a detonation near a relief aid headquarters, killing several workers in the overwhelming blast. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of these unfortunate victims."

Hearing this report, Anne quickly looked to Ciciley.

The expression of heartbreak in her tear-drenched face was an obvious reaction.

She knew the same could be found on Elendriel, both mother and daughter greatly concerned for the one Avenger on the assignment: Yamila.

"S-She…she…" Ciciley drifted, her thoughts running mad on the possibilities.

"I'm sure she's okay, Moms." Elendriel reassured; her voice as quivering as her mother's.

"You don't know that!" Ciciley barked. "Take us back to the Avengers facility!"

"No way," Myst denied. "You and your partners in crime are being escorted directly to the Raft."

"What?!" Ciciley gasped.

Even Elendriel was baffled from this new information.

"I thought we were bringing them back to the facility for containment and interrogation," she indicated. "Those were Fury's orders."

"Well, the rest of us got _our_ orders from someone higher up than Fury – the United States Secretary of State," Myst disclosed.

Ciciley scowled in recognition. "Thaddeus Ross? What does _he_ have to do with any of this?"

"Ross anticipated something like Lagos to happen the second Cap and his merry band of misfits were deployed," Myst enlightened, her voice suggesting much distain. "And that mess in Hell's Kitchen last year was none-too-helpful either."

"We stopped a twelve-ton alien brute from destroying all life on Earth!" Ciciley contested.

"And sixty people were killed!" Myst refuted. "Seriously, count the catastrophes: New York, Washington D.C., Sokovia, Hell's Kitchen, and now Lagos! Together, the body count is close to a million! The government is on edge, making whatever necessary action there is to put you freaks in check!"

"So I guess that's what this whole 'Helix' thing is all about, eh?" Ciciley connected. "Putting the 'freaks' back in their place?"

"Whatever it takes, honey."

"You are such a hypocrite, Myst or whatever you wanna call yourself! You're not foolin' me! I know Ross's got somethin' on you to do his dirty work!"

"Shut up."

"What is it? A sick mother on welfare? Or would it be child support?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Myst turned to Ciciley once again.

The same victorious grin she flashed on her was masked on the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's face.

As much as she wanted to slap it right off, her attention became distracted by Anne. The dark-haired Irishwoman, who claimed herself to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., was relatively quiet the entire car ride. Her eyes were tightly shut, registering some type of duress.

"What's with this one?" Myst questioned. "She gotta take a leak or som—?"

 _BOOM!_

From the left side of the road erupted a fiery explosion, rocking the street corner the two conveying vehicles passed before careening and toppling over to their sides.

Vapor filled the SUV, waking Ciciley out of the temporary blackout she was knocked into.

Anne, seemingly unharmed and fully conscious, worked on right side door, now above their heads.

"What did you do?!" She grilled the Irishwoman.

"Sent a distress call to another Splitter these Helix morons failed to apprehend," Anne confirmed. "Where do you think the tranquilizer that knocked out Lee came from?"

Ciciley nodded, smiling. "Well, can you get us out? The smoke's getting pretty dense in here."

Anne responded only by slamming her fist against the side door, sending it flying off its hinges from the impact.

Ciciley dared not to let her thoughts on the impressive feat linger much longer.

She grabbed ahold of the unconscious Elendriel, whose limp body hugged against the protective airbag.

As much as she hated to consider saving Myst as well, there was no option available for her to, with the cold-hearted Helix operative's body missing from the wreckage.

 _That witch went and saved her own butt before ours!_

Rather than mentally dispute Myst's lack of valor, Ciciley centered on getting her daughter to safety.

With assistance from Anne, they escaped the smoking SUV, sprawling themselves over the pavement at a safe distance.

"Everybody alright?"

Hurried, hefty footsteps accompanied the spirited voice of a young woman who checked up on them.

Believing it at first to be a concerned citizen, Ciciley was taken aback to find a fresh-faced brunette with glistening multicolored eyes standing near them. Adorned in a black hoodie and ripped denim jeans, she lugged an AK-47 over her right shoulder.

"Who's this?" Ciciley asked of the woman.

"Terryan," Anne answered. "The Splitter who orchestrated our breakout."

"That rocket launcher really came in handy," Terryan beamed.

"Let's not pat ourselves on the back just yet." Ciciley gathered herself off the pavement with Anne. "C'mon. Let's get the rest of 'em out."

The three women rushed towards the capsized van.

In their brief trek, they noticed the smoke out of the SUV spread further along the area. Difficult as it was to believe, it appeared to have taken control all by itself, twisting into a cyclone that blocked Ciciley, Anne, and Terryan.

"What the—?!" Terryan muttered.

A feminine figure materialized within the haze, her lucent body advancing on Ciciley, Anne, and Terryan while whipped by the evening breeze.

Distinguishing features manifested upon the cloud-formed woman.

Ciciley could hardly believe her eyes, once she managed to ascertain the identity of this enhanced being…

"Myst?"

* * *

"Is everybody okay?"

Marisa was among the bodies jumbled inside the transport van, following the random accident. The atmosphere was dark, save for the light coming through the crevices of the rear doors. She could hardly see the others but heard them groaning.

"I'm cool," Harley verified.

"Same here," Rose checked off.

"Ditto," Oneida substantiated.

The only few who had not sounded off were Lee, Tara, and Ava.

Lee slept through the entire incident, still under the influence of the tranquilizer darts injected into her.

Tara, however, was all too concerned with the rancorous snarl emitting near them.

"We need to get out of here!" She panicked.

Harley glowered in the surrounding darkness. "Why? What's that—?"

The snarl blasted into a full-on roar.

Something monstrous and visceral surfaced there with them.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

Since her experience at Project Geo a few years back, Ciciley hated any opportunity she was given in going toe-to-toe with an enhanced being; but Myst was no Gigi. A woman who had the ability to turn her body into mist (hence the name) proved to be a challenge, not just for herself but Anne and their new friend, Terryan, as well.

If she could discern a butt from a face to punch or kick, she would.

Yet every swing was just a swipe at the fog structure she entrapped them in.

"The great Ciciley Livingston," Myst's voice echoed around them. "Always the 'hit first' type of gal."

"Whatever gets the job done, honey!" Ciciley bellowed whilst taking another swing that did not connect with her opponent.

She suddenly took a blow to the stomach that doubled her over.

Myst had a strategy – temporarily solidify her form long enough to strike.

If Ciciley could time it just right, she could get a hit in.

Meanwhile, Anne was not having much luck herself, using the same technique as Ciciley, only for it to blow up in her face – or get it punched, in this case. Terryan resorted to using a sidearm, which was not only futile but dangerous, with Ciciley and Anne in the way.

"Terryan, put that gun down!" Anne barked. "You're gonna get _us_ killed!"

"Here, lemme take care of that for ya," Myst said within the fog.

Terryan's arm twisted, causing her to yelp in pain. Her sidearm dropped from her grip before she was clocked in the face, sending her down.

Ciciley saw her chance and took it.

With Myst focused on Terryan, Ciciley rushed over and tackled her solidified form to the ground. Soon after she did, the fog dispersed. They could see the entire street corner once again, including the wrecked escort.

Pinning Myst down with a raised fist, Ciciley was prepared to go to town on her.

 _RAWWWWWWWWWW!_

The feral howling came directly from the overturned van nearby.

"Oh no," whispered a petrified Myst, appearing to recognize the sound. "Let me up right now."

"What _is_ that?" Ciciley asked her.

"I don't have time to explain it to you! Let me up _now_!"

The rear doors of the van flew off their hinges – along with them, the shredded, bloodied body of Harley.

Ciciley, Myst, Terryan, and Anne all watched in horror as an eleven-foot, blue-furred beastly creature with vicious red eyes and razor sharp teeth and claws (caked in Harley's blood) leaped out of the van.

It glared at the four women standing in front of it, snarling.

"What in the name of heaven is that thing?!" Ciciley exclaimed.

"It's Ava," Myst revealed. "Or 'Fera,' as we sometimes call her."

"You mean that _thing_ is part of your team?!" Ciciley retorted.

"She's still a human being!"

"Not now, she ain't!"

The roar of the creature called "Fera" crudely reminded the two women of the situation they were currently facing.

In a move that surprised Ciciley, Myst rushed at Fera.

Fera attempted to swat at her, just as she neared; however, the brunette's body transmuted in the process, becoming a greenish gas that clouded around Fera. The creature proceeded to flail at the haze that it breathed in, feeling its effect almost instantaneously.

"Just take it all in, Ava," Myst soothed. "Relax."

It took a few seconds before the creature finally relented, collapsing face-first to the concrete. Successful in taming it, Myst once more congealed her body. She watched the blue fur shed from Fera, whose form shrunk down to typical body size of Ava. Seeing her Helix teammate lying there stark naked, Myst knew she had to find something to cover her up.

Remembering there being spare uniforms in the van, she went to retrieve one when she came across an unsettling sight: Oneida and a few of their captives were gone. There was only the sedated Lee left with a battered, bloodied, and unconscious Tara, evidently another victim of Fera's rampage.

Myst turned to the street corner, finding that Ciciley, Anne, and Terryan had vanished also, taking the cataleptic Elendriel with them.

"You gotta be kidding me!" She furiously griped, slamming her fist against the already damaged hull of the overturned van.

* * *

It did not matter to Oneida whatever punishment she would face in response to her insubordination. It was clear to her that Helix was not what she signed up for; enhanced hunting down enhanced, treating them like they were cattle.

While Fera's emergence out of Ava was something she hoped her teammate would recover from for her own sake, it was a blessing in disguise for Oneida, who seized in the opportunity of freeing the captive Splitters without excluding Ciciley and Anne. At Ciciley's request, she even brought Elendriel along.

"Thank you," Ciciley expressed her immense gratitude for Oneida's noble deed. "But _why_ did you help us?"

"I thought that Helix was meant for something better than what Thaddeus Ross turned it into," Oneida said. "We were supposed to be like the Avengers – the good guys – until he molded us into mercenaries. And I'm _not_ nor will I ever be a mercenary."

Ciciley nodded, smiling. "Again, thank you for doing this."

"Where do we go now?" Anne inquired, keeping Harley standing upright as his ravaged body speedily healed.

"I have a friend who lives in a studio apartment not far from here," Oneida informed. "Her name's Amanda. I think you all will like her. She's like a modern-day soothsayer."

"Well," Ciciley snickered. "If she can predict us a way out of this mess, she'll be my new best friend."


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

Oneida's friend, Amanda, was just the "modern-day soothsayer" as she described her. The exquisite young redhead, who had a southern charm to her, dressed like a harem girl and had a rather tranquil personality. Her studio apartment carried the scent of rose petals out of burnt incense.

"Greetings, new friends," she welcomed them with literal open arms. "I'd expected you to come…only much sooner."

"How…?" Ciciley began, until she ultimately decided to forgo her inquiry. "Never mind. Forget it. Too much _other_ weird stuff's been happening tonight for me to worry about _that_."

The group eased into their respective areas of Amanda's apartment.

It was excellent sanctuary for as long as they were hidden from the Helix.

Elendriel was settled into Amanda's bed, which was nothing else but a gathering of multicolored pillows on the floor. Ciciley sat beside her, waiting every minute for her daughter to snap awake. There were many questions that needed answering.

Once Elendriel finally regained consciousness, she started with a raspy cough.

Amanda somehow saw this earlier in advance and had a cup of water ready.

 _Where did she get this impeccable ability of foresight_ , Ciciley wondered as Elendriel gulped down the water.

"What happened?" Elendriel asked. "Where am I?"

"Relax," Ciciley urged her. "You're someplace a lot safer than where you were."

Seeing her mother in front of her, Elendriel groaned. "Now I remember."

"Did you know about your friend Myst's particular gift? The woman just turned into smoke and kicked my butt from here to Chinatown."

Elendriel confirmed with a nod. "Yes, I did. She was one of the first of the Enhanced that Fury recruited for the Helix program he initiated. There were more unwilling participants in Saccheri's experiments. We found them throughout the city, scared out of their minds from what Saccheri turned them into. So, we gave them a place, a purpose with S.H.I.E.L.D., and formed a team, not unlike the Avengers or Secret Warriors."

Ciciley cringed. "Secret Warriors? Who're _they_?"

"You've missed _a lot_ since you left," Elendriel tittered. "Let's just say there are more and more special individuals coming together these days."

"And yet, at the same time, you and your pals are huntin' them on the streets."

Elendriel sighed from her mother's disapproving tone. "I didn't know that Myst was taking new orders from Thaddeus Ross. I have no clue _why_ he wanted the Enhanced taken to the Raft. I was under the impression that we were just transferring them to the facility for research, study, and rehabilitation."

"Well, we've gotta get the one they have back, as soon as possible. She's the ticket to getting your brother back."

"What?!"

"You heard me right. Apparently, Saccheri's experiment on him and my mother – your grandmother – led to some type of 'genetic division' where they split into eight separate people. 'Splitters,' we call them. That Portuguese girl – the one that killed Saccheri at his warehouse – she's one of them. And now they have her."

"Moms, you're not makin' _any_ sense."

"I'm makin' _perfect_ sense! We _need_ to get that girl back! With her and the other seven, there's a chance we can reform your brother back to normal!"

"What you're askin' is _insane_! You want to free a murderer?!"

"A murderer is not what she is."

Their heads turned towards the doorway, finding Anne there.

Elendriel shook her head at the leather-clad S.H.I.E.L.D. attire the Irishwoman continued to flaunt in. "You do realize it's a criminal offense to masquerade as a government agent."

"Last I checked, S.H.I.E.L.D. was no longer part of the government," Anne contradicted. "As I was saying, Lee is not a murderer. She's just confused from being what she is. They were all confused the second they were divided. Some were lucky to have developed their own identities and lifestyles, like Marisa and Amanda."

Ciciley's ears tickled from the second name Anne uttered. "The soothsayer's a Splitter, too?! How can you tell?" She then reconsidered her question, reflecting on the recent examples displayed. "Well, the whole knowing-what-would-happen-before-it-happened was a dead giveaway."

"What concerns me more though is what Lee spoke about her 'Leader' when she attacked Marisa," Anne said. "It's possible he's the reason behind her prolonged identity crisis – which begs the question of who he _really_ is."

* * *

An underwater prison located in the far stretches of the Atlantic Ocean, the Raft was created for the sole purpose of detaining and incarcerating enhanced and super-powered individuals. Thaddeus Ross personally oversaw operations, as part of his appointed duty of Secretary of State – a position he earned from his experience in dealing with super-powered individuals, such as Hulk.

Had the Raft been completed during the days he and the green menace butted heads, it would have been a different story.

That evening, he received word on the capture of the Enhanced Portuguese woman they had been after since the night of the Hell's Kitchen incident. His top agent, Myst, and the Helix team escorted her via helicopter to the prison. However, upon their arrival, Ross was caught by surprise.

"You're missing one teammate," he told Myst, shortly after the team docked. "Where's Kastanidis?"

"Gone," Myst despondently remarked. "She was compromised."

"Doesn't surprise me," Ross noted. "She seemed like a weak link the second Fury recruited her. Wasn't cut out for the big leagues." He watched as a few Raft personnel carted an eight-foot steel crate marked "DANGER" into the facility. "At least it was not a _total_ loss. Whatever we can find out about this one and what she can do could benefit us in the long run."

Myst raised a concerned eyebrow. "You want to recruit _her_?!"

"Rehabilitate her first. Maybe Fury was onto something with this whole program. As soon as Nylen gets here, we'll figure something out."

"The Doc's coming?"

"Samuel Sterns is awaiting his monthly session with her. I don't know what those two talk about or how Nylen is able to maintain herself after, but I'd rather not let her get too close with that madman. Every day, he's planning something…and, for once, I'd like to know what it is."


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

The Lagos fiasco was headlined all across the globe.

Newscasts of the incident were broadcasted for twenty-four hours straight.

By the following morning, everyone in Amanda's apartment had their eyes glued to the one television set she owned, seeing repeated footage of Wanda Maximoff's premature diffusion of the suicide bomb Brock Rumlow designed.

"This is going to be a P.R. nightmare for the team," a woeful Elendriel denoted. "First Sokovia, now _this_."

Ciciley's brows snapped together in distaste. "Forget P.R.! Your sister needs us right now! We should be back at the facility doing what we can for her!"

"I wouldn't advise that," Anne told her. "Helix will be waiting for you."

"Well, if getting my butt kicked means that I get to provide support for my youngest in her time of need, so be it," Ciciley defiantly proclaimed.

"Civil war."

All eyes peered Amanda's way.

She had been sitting lotus style on group of pillows, her eyelids fluttering.

Her powers of premonition in effect.

"Civil war will come to Earth's mightiest heroes," she spoke in a hollowed tone. "But so much worse is on the horizon for this world. A glove…a large glove made of gold…its wielder…large… _very_ large…and purple."

Ciciley's face scrunched bafflingly. "Gold glove? What's she talkin' about?"

Elendriel let out an aggravated groan. "Who knows, who _cares_? All I know is that I've been stuck up in this smelly building for hours when I need to be upstate, helping this Lagos situation any way I can."

"She's right," Oneida said. "She's still in good graces with Helix, as far as Ross is concerned. We let her go back to the facility, all she has to say is that she escaped captivity and lie about knowing where we are. With what's happened, I doubt if Ross will be too busy hunting us down."

Ciciley nodded with approval. "I'm cool with that. As long as Elle finds some way of getting Lee back."

"Oh, Moms…"

"No fussin'! We need that girl, Elle!"

Elendriel sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll do what I can."

Watching her daughter leave Amanda's apartment with the assurance that she would make due, Ciciley got her first sense of relief in months.

"Cici," Anne approached in a whisper. "I should let you know that I've detected more Splitters in the area within the last hour. We've gotta discuss ways to find them, before Helix does."

" _Detected_?" Ciciley reacted, questionably. "When did you suddenly develop 'Splitter Radar'?"

"Let's just say I've got a sixth sense over them."

* * *

"I tell ya, Doctor Nylen, it's like I had _everything_ all figured out when that sample of Banner's blood dripped right into my open head wound. I saw the future – one _glorious_ future – that's unfolding right before us here and now. The Chitauri, Ultron, the Super Skrull…should I go on? Because there's a talking rodent and tree involved that'll split your sides!"

On a chair supplied to her by Raft personnel, Nylen sat across from Sterns, pure titanium bars all there was between them.

She kept notes of everything he rambled to her on a tablet computer.

A pair of heavily armed guards stood at bay close beside her, trained in the event that Sterns attempted anything funny. Not that he would have, with the specialized halo brace modified to keep his grotesquely swollen head upright and block the telepathic power inherited from his accident years prior.

"Let's focus on what you mentioned about being a leader," Nylen suggested.

"Ah, yes! I wondered when we'd get back to that. Leader to a _nation_ of gifted beings. Some of those numbskulls in the government refer them as 'Inhumans,' but I prefer the term 'Disciples'."

While Sterns gloated on his universal purpose, Nylen was deeply engrossed in the notes recorded on her tablet. At least, that was what she wanted Ross and his personnel to believe as they observed the interaction through surveillance.

Deceitfully, she installed a computer virus to the Raft's mainframe.

Once downloaded, all systems shut down, including surveillance.

Momentarily, the detention hall went dark before red emergency lights switched on, basking the area in a blood red hue.

"Um…what's happening here?" Sterns questioned.

The titanium bars of his cell retracted, permitting him freedom.

He noticed the guards responding absently to the events transpiring around them.

Sterns cackled exultantly. "Hail HYDRA! I knew one day you guys would come for me! Guess I owe all this to Saccheri, the old blowfish!"

"We're part of a greater cause than HYDRA," Nylen told Sterns.

"What is our next objective, Your Highness?" One of the guards asked.

 _'Your Highness,'_ Sterns thought inquisitively of the peculiar royal vernacular.

"One of you…strike me," she ordered, the guards looking to each other with disconcerted ambiguity. "It's alright. This human form may be fragile, but my biology will prevent any intensive damage. I must sustain belief that this siege was orchestrated by an outside threat. If I'm suspected, our mission will fail."

Without any further restraint, one of the guards did as commanded.

The punch was effective, leaving Nylen with a bruised eye; despite that, she hardly flinched from the impact.

"What _are_ you?!" An overly fascinated Sterns inquired. "I _must_ know!"

"All your curiosities will be explained, Doctor Sterns," Nylen vowed. "For now, you will leave this prison with my subjects. A transport's been provided on the helipad, and you'll be taken to a secure location."

"Ross and his freaks are gonna be a problem," Sterns specified.

Nylen scoffed. "My virus locked them in the control room. They won't be much of a problem."

Sterns was giddier than a schoolboy. "This is _brilliant_!" As he was escorted out of his cell by the guards, he was quick to request, "We've gotta make one pit stop. There's a cryo-cell in Alaska I've gotta stop by. I've got an old friend I'd _love_ to see again."


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

 **One Month Later**

"Governmental establishment of the Sokovia Accords appears to have created much _dis_ cord among members of the Avengers. After facing imprisonment in the Raft facility for actions _against_ the Accords, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, and Scott Lang were broken out of their captivity, presumably by fugitive Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America. As of now, the whereabouts of these _former_ heroes are unknown."

Nursing her newborn son, who she gave birth on the previous month, Heather sat in one of the pews of Saint Patrick's Old Cathedral, listening to the radio. A young brunette in her early thirties, she wore a bright turquoise dress that contrasted to the dark attire of the person working near her and her son.

Fahr, a woman she had grown to call a friend since saving her from a mugging there in Hell's Kitchen, swept around the pews – one of her daily chores done in gratitude for Father Lantom giving her shelter at the cathedral.

Despite her goth-like appearance, sporting cropped black hair and heavy eyeliner, Fahr was an angel, possibly sent from God in Father Lantom's perspective. Had it not been for her, Heather would not have given birth to her son.

And she was highly opinionated.

"Sokovia Accords my butt," she grumbled underneath her noticeable German accent. "Those stupid Accords are the whole reason the Avengers broke up."

"Who've we got to protect us now?" Heather queried. "That Spiderling kid?"

"And where's Thor?" Fahr asked. "We've heard nothin' about him since Ultron."

"How much longer will we have before another alien threat like the Chitauri or that Super-Skrull thing show up?" Heather worryingly held her son closer to her bosom.

"Those stupid Accords!" Fahr scorned. "If I were an Avenger, I'd show just how much of waste they are!"

"You wouldn't have to be an Avenger to do that."

The two turned at the voice that spoke near the cathedral entrance.

There stood a fancy-dressed woman of African and Sicilian descent with long straight black hair and olive skin. Her eyes were hidden beneath a sizable pair of sunshades.

"Can we help you, Miss?" Fahr offered.

"Actually, I can help the both of you," she said. "You both have spent your days and nights the past month in this church, wondering about being part of something greater. I'm here to offer you a chance at becoming that with us."

Heather frowned. " _Us_?"

As if on cue, five other people walked in behind the African/Sicilian woman – one man and four other women of varying ages ethnic backgrounds (one was a fortysomething Hispanic and another a much older Italian).

The strangest part, however, was that Fahr and Heather recognized these people who they have never met in either of their lives.

"Who _are_ all of you?" Heather questioned.

"My name's Ciciley and these strangers with me are called Splitters. You all are part of one whole person I believe can help us save humanity."

* * *

 _Humanity. What a crock!_

Sterns reclined in the leather desk chair with John Saccheri's body shape still imprinted into it.

From the top-floor office of the long-deceased CEO's Sacch Corporation building, he could see virtually all of Manhattan Island. Surprisingly, the building overshadowed that of Avengers Tower just a few blocks away.

It was no wonder Saccheri once possessed so much vigor.

Any man who had an office with a powerful view would see _himself_ powerful.

"Taking it all in?"

Sterns jolted in the chair, scared out of his wits by the unexpected emergence of Marie Nylen.

"Geez, warn a guy next time you do that!" He groaned. "I should've been able to read you before you even walked in anyway. Why can't I? What _are_ you? You've made it clear you're not with S.H.I.E.L.D. And I've checked Johnny's 'little black book' to determine if you've ever been with HYDRA – there's _nothing_ that shows you. So, tell me, who are you?"

Nylen sat on the desk that once belonged to John Saccheri, obscuring a framed photograph of the dead businessman and his white-silver cat.

She looked mesmerizingly into Sterns' eyes, almost holding him in a trance.

"A year ago, your people watched our grandest warrior take form on your Earth," she said. "Had it not been for the Avengers, all of you would be kneeling before the Skrull Empire."

Sterns slightly trembled. "You talk like you're one of them."

"Because I am. In fact, I am their _queen_."

Sterns' trembling visibly increased. "T-That's why I wasn't able to scan your mind. A-Alien resistance, correct? I c-couldn't even mind control you, if I tried. It's brilliant! Beautiful, in fact! W-Why even come to _me_ with such mental capability?!"

"We require of your talents to ensure that the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., or any of Earth's _other_ warriors do not stand in the way of our secret invasion."

"I-I-Invasion?!" Sterns stammered. "You mean, t-there are _more_ of you coming?"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Sterns. This is only just beginning."

An overjoyed grin developed on the face of Sterns.

"I must need a force of enhanced beings unlike anything Earth has ever seen," he told the Skrull queen. "With the Sokovia Accords, the division of the Avengers, and the assistance of the Skrulls, the formation of this new militia will go along _smoothly_!"

 **To Be Continued In…MARVEL EVOLUTION!**


End file.
